Beware of March 15!
by Christina Jayne
Summary: This is the soothsayer/Cassius tells brutus about the "plan" scene. It's just modernized! Ain't that lovely. Wrote it for my English class, might continue if you review!


**Well it looks like a lot of this Shakespeare stuff is for English class...and what a surprise! So is mine! This is Act 1 Scene 2, as I like to call it, novelised.**

**What I mean is that there is description, and all of the dialogue is modern! Gaspeth! Yeah so...enjoy. I might continue if I get bored...add more scenes and what not...if my teachers ever give me a break on HW...please R & R. It would be greatly appreciated.**

**I do not own Julius Caesar or any of its characters.**

The sound of glorious horns sounded up and down the heavily decorated streets of Rome. Almost every common person ditched work and flooded the roadways; they conversed about the homecoming of the great Julius Caesar. He had just returned from a glorious defeat of Pompey's two sons. The town people talked about how he should become king, and how he should become the single-handed ruler of Rome. The people cheered, shouted and decorated the statues of Julius Caesar. Down in the main streets of Rome a parade was on its way. The one and only Julius Caesar himself marched proudly down the streets.

Then just before one of the many entrances to the stadium Caesar stopped and called for his wife, Calphurnia. The crowd was so loud that she didn't hear them.

"BE QUIET!" Casca, one of Caesar's friends shouted, "Caesar is talking!" The people fell quiet and listened to what Caesar had to say.

"Calphurnia! Come here!" Calphurnia, an attractive, middle aged woman stepped forward and greeted her husband nervously for she feared what issue he was going to address, "Make sure that you stand in Antony's path when he races later. Antony!"

"You called?" From ten feet away a very handsome and young man stepped forward from the edge of the crowd. He wore his running uniform that showed off his well built and deeply tanned body. His curly light-brown hair slightly bobbed up and down as he quickly walked over to his near hero in life, Julius Caesar.

"Don't forget to touch Calphurnia as you pass her while running your race; for you know that our elders say when a young man touches a woman when he is a racing. It gets rid off the curse she has of not being able to bear children."

Calphurnia stepped away from Caesar, her eyebrows furrowed and she appeared hurt and slightly embarrassed by her husband's bluntness and inappropriate manner in which he delivered his word. Antony, however, seemed oblivious to anything that may be wrong,

"I will remember, sir. When Caesar tells me to do something it is done."

"Go on, and don't forget," though, by the time Caesar finished his sentence the crowd had already had busted into another loud roar. From inside the crowd there was a mysterious voice that emerged.

"Caesar, Caesar," the strange voice cried out.

"Who calls?"

"EVERYONE! BE QUIET AGAIN!" shouted Casca once more.

"Who is it in the crowd that calls my name? I hear a voice different then all the others. Please, speak." The strange voice called out again, it was obviously masculine, but it had a strange raspy tone.

"Beware of March fifteenth."

"Who is that?" Caesar asked his companions. His best friend, Brutus replied first.

"It's an old mystic, he tells you to be afraid of March fifteenth."

"Well, bring him before me; I want to see his face," another one of Caesar's acquaintances, Cassius, went over to the mystic and dragged the man out of the crowd and in front of Caesar, "What did you say before, I couldn't hear, tell me again."

Before the mystic said anything he took Caesar's hand into his own wrinkle filled ones. Caesar looked shocked and kind of disgusted of the old man's filthiness. The mystic's clothes were old and tattered; he also carried several long strands of colorful beads around his neck. His hair was long, grey, un-combed and appeared not to have been washed for several weeks. The Mystic's eyes had a milky glaze over them too. Finally, the old man spoke again,

"Beware of March fifteenth." Caesar looked around himself, not entirely sure what to do. He forced his hands out of the mystic's and turned to his friends,

"He is just a dreamer, let's go." With that the whole crowd and all of Caesar's friends followed. They were all off to go watch the races. The only two people who stayed behind were Cassius and Brutus.

"Are you going to the races?" Cassius asked his good friend. Brutus took a while to answer, his cool blue eyes looked slightly distracted, and his averagely fair skin looked a bit paler than normal.

"I do not like sports that much; I don't have the spirit that Antony has. Don't let me stop you from going though, I should probably go…" just as Brutus turned to leave Cassius reached out his arm and stopped him.

"Brutus," Cassius's warm eyes looked into his friend's with concern, "I've been watching you lately and it concerns me. You seem less happy and more stubborn to me than usual. I thought I was your friend."

"Cassius, don't take it too badly. If I seem reserved, it's only because I am uneasy with myself. Lately I have been thinking thoughts and having inner problems that might have affected my behavior. Don't let it trouble you, I am you friend. I am just at war with myself and forget to show my feelings to others."

"Oh, thank the gods, though I accidentally mistook your feelings, and kept certain things to myself: things that I would normally share to good friends."

Cassius began to tell Brutus about his concerns. The two friends made their way into the nearest entrance of the stadium. Towards their right a few steps there was a balcony and another staircase that overlooked where the mystic had just warned Caesar. Towards their left and in the stadium, the races were being held. Cassius spoke to Brutus about Caesar but used a secret undertone that was hard to decode. They continued to speak until they heard the sound of trumpets and screaming from the stadium.

"What is that screaming?" Inquired Brutus, "I do have fear that the people have chosen to make Caesar king."

"Hey, you finally admit something, and by your tone I would think that you do not want him to be king."

"It is true," Brutus sighed, "though he is a really good friend…but why are you keeping me here, Cassius? What do you want to tell me? If it's for the good of Rome, I'll do it, even if it meant death."

So on Cassius went about how it was bad for Rome to have Caesar as king. He also told Brutus stories of his past about how Caesar shouldn't be king and how he is not fit. Through the whole speech Brutus caught some jealousy in Cassius's voice, and on and on Cassius went about how Caesar wasn't a god and how Caesar was not worthy. He went on and on until another course of trumpets sounded him out. It once again was followed by cheers and screams of the common people.

"Another cheer," Brutus pondered, "I do think this time it's for some award heaped onto Caesar."

"Why, Caesar spans the narrow world like a giant, and we insignificant men walk under his huge legs and look forward only to dying dishonorably, as slaves.

"Men can be masters of their fate. It is not destiny's fault, but our own faults, that we're slaves. "Brutus" and "Caesar." What's so special about "Caesar"? Why should that name be made known more than yours? Write them together—yours is just as good a name. Pronounce them—it is just as nice to say.

"Cast spells with them, and "Brutus" will call up a ghost as well as "Caesar." Now, in the name of all the gods, what food does Caesar eat that has made him grow so great? Rome has lost the ability to raise noble men!" Cassius finished his rant nearly breathless. There were a few more moments of silence until Brutus finally talked,

"I am beginning to understand what you want me to do Cassius. It is a hard choice for me though, and I'll tell you what I think later." Cassius nodded thanks to Brutus and it wasn't a moment too soon. Caesar and his crowd entered the corridor moments after Brutus and Cassius finished talking. There was a strange taste to the air he brought in though. Everyone looked angry or scolded. Calphurnia was pale and Caesar looked annoyed. As the crowd passed Cassius pulled aside the last member, Casca and asked him what was wrong.

Casca explained how the cries and cheer that they had heard was the reaction of the crowd when Antony offered Caesar a crown, to be king of Rome. He went on to explain how the crown was offered to Caesar three times, and how every time he refused to have it. He told how Caesar fainted and how his wife reacted. It took nearly an hour to tell it all and after Casca explained the whole matter he left just as sullen looking as he did when he walked in. This left Cassius and Brutus alone once again. They sat in silence for a moment until Brutus spoke up,

"I should probably get going Cassius. If you wish to speak to me, why don't you come to my home tomorrow?" With that Brutus left, and for an hour more Cassius sat inside the halls of the stadium and contemplated how exactly to get Brutus on his side...

**Complete. Yeah... Tell me what you think! Should I continue?**

**R&R**

**~Christina Jayne**


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